So This Is Christmas
by SaraStar
Summary: GregSara; oneshot. What is Christmas? Sara Sidle has never known. Until somebody shows her.


**This story was written for Laura (rhille), for the Jorja All Around Secret Santa.

* * *

So This Is Christmas**

_So this is Christmas_, Sara thought, as she stood in front of the window staring down upon the empty streets. Every now and then she spotted a person hurrying past, most of them with parcels under their arms or in big bags, probably on a last-minute Christmas presents shopping spree. Her hands clamping the empty tea mug, she sighed heavily. Sara wasn't a fan of the holidays, to say the least. It wasn't like she had anything against world peace (on the contrary), but she just couldn't pretend like there was nothing going on in the world. The way she was confronted with misery every day in her job made the idea of a world living in peace seem almost laughably unrealistic. And then there was the fact that in Christmas time everyone was supposed to be happy, cozy and social. Suddenly you were expected to act all cheerfully, and Sara believed that the force of this coziness was determined to cause the exact opposite of that. People were trying too hard to act happily and nice around each other, and in that tense atmosphere only the slightest argument or disagreement could make the hiding wick catch fire. Holidays made people depressed, was Sara's theory. She always did her best to avoid the cheesy Christmas atmosphere that she experience all around her. All of the shops decorated with lights, people sending each other Christmas cards fanatically and the radio stations that overplayed Mariah Carey's wish for Christmas. Sara would rather stay inside and watch the whole Christmas scene from there. That was her way of enjoying the holidays.

Maybe the real reason of her dislike of Christmas was the fact that it only reminded her of the bad memories of her youth. Christmas traditions at the Sidles' usually involved a happy beginning with a meal her mom had cooked and a bitter ending in lots of drinking by her dad, who then started shouting and bashing at everyone and everything around him when they were bothering him. Sara would always flee to her room and turn up the music really loud, so she didn't have to listen to her dad's yelling and her mom's desperate trying to calm him down, with a tearstained voice. Christmas presents were non-existent in her family.

The only Christmas song that Sara could stand a little was John Lennon's "Merry Christmas (War Is Over)." To her it always felt like a kind of ironical song, that had already given up on believing that Christmas was a holiday of nothing but happiness. It expressed the way she felt about it.

_Another year over_, _a new one just begun_. A lot had happened this year, and not all of them good. She had gone from being happily in love with Grissom, to almost dying crushed underneath a car in the middle of the desert (a shiver went through her spine remembering) and eventually to moving away from Las Vegas, that had been her home town for the past eight years. And now she was here, on her own, locked inside her apartment not wanting to leave and be dragged into the Christmas celebration. No matter how many times she'd been let down in it, Sara always kept hope that the new year was going to be better. December was the month that she looked back upon her life and picked out all the things she wanted to change in the upcoming year. And even though she knew that most of these optimistic resolutions weren't going to happen anyway, there was a little faith inside her yet._Let's hope it's a good one, without any fear. _

All of a sudden, Sara got woken out of her own thoughts by her phone ringing. It sounded loudly through the empty apartment. Hurriedly, Sara grabbed it from the table. 

"Sara Sidle."

"Hohoho, merry Christmas, Sara Sidle!"

Sara's lips curled into a small smile, hearing his voice for the first time in awhile. "Hey Greg."

"This is Santa Greg. Why don't you sound excited?"

"Why would I be excited?"

He laughed and said sarcastically: "Because it's the 24th of December, you know, they call that Christmas. Rings a bell?"

"Christmas sucks."

"It does? Really?"

"Yeah, it does."

"Well, I for one don't believe so. And so do most people with me."

"Believe me, I know. I must be the only one on the planet who's not a fan of the holidays," Sara said, miserably.

"Then we certainly gotta do something about that, don't we?"

Sara shrugged, then realized he couldn't see that. "I dunno."

"I donno. I demand you to have fun. And I'm Santa Greg, so you'll have to listen to me."

Sara couldn't help being cheered up by him. It was against her 'I hate the holidays'-pact, but she couldn't help herself. Greg made her smile. But she didn't want to let him win that easily.

"I don't want to have fun."

"Well, what if you don't have a choice?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What if Santa Greg happened to stand in front of your door right now?"

Shocked, Sara turned around. It couldn't be, could it? He didn't even know where she was staying now. She walked towards the front door quickly and peeked through the peephole. On her doorstep stood Greg Sanders, wearing a Christmas hat and all packed up in a thick coat and a scarf. He stuck out his tongue at her, probably aware that she was watching him. She opened the door, her eyes widened. "Greg, oh my God! What are you doing here? How did you come here?"

"Oh, it was no problem at all for Santa Greg, Sara. I parked my slay right around the corner."

"Very funny. But seriously, how did you track me down?"

"Asked Grissom where you were living these days. Told him it was an emergency." He stepped past Sara into the apartment, and added, "And it is! Sara Sidle, you don't even have a Christmas tree!"

Sara closed the front door behind them. "Told you I wasn't a fan of the holidays."

"Well, that's why I'm here." He looked at Sara's sad face. "You are happy to see me, are you?"

"Of course I am, Greg. I'm just…" She shrugged her shoulders and sunk down on the couch. "Nevermind."

"No, no, no, Santa Greg never neverminds. We're going out right now." He walked to the hallway and came back with Sara's coat.

"No Greg, really, I'm okay…"

"Santa Greg never takes no for an answer." He took her hand and tried to drag her up from the couch. Unwillingly, she stood up and allowed him to help her into her coat. She didn't care anymore. He had won.

They left the apartment together. Even though she didn't want to admit it, Sara was a little curious what Greg had planned for her.

"What are we gonna do?" she mumbled, not trying to let her voice give away any enthusiasm.

"First of all, we're going to get you a nice Christmas tree. It's a shame, I repeat, a shame that you don't have one yet!"

Sara smiled. Unwillingly, again. What was going on with her? She was totally violating her pact. But who cared? He had come all the way from Las Vegas to here, just for her. It would be shamefully rude to just blow him off. The least she could do was find out what he wanted to do for her.

---

Greg walked towards a Christmas tree in the shop. He stood there for awhile, staring at it, touching the needles, shaking the tree a little bit, mumbling "hmhm" every once in a while and then he said: "No, this one's a little rough for my choice. Moving on."

He stepped onto the next tree in the row, as Sara rolled her eyes. This was about the twentieth time that he did this. "So what does a Christmas tree need to have to be alright in your opinion?" she asked.

"I cannot tell. It's just, when it has it, it has it. You'll see when we've found the right one," Greg answered, as he took one of the branches and shook it softly.

"I see," Sara said, amused. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest and leaned against the wall, watching him.

"This one's pretty great, actually."

"It is?" Sara said, happily. "Great. Take it and go."

"Hmmm, wait. It's a little bit dry, I don't think it's gonna last very long," Greg said, thoughtfully.

"No, neither am I, Greg! We've been here for hours!" Sara shouted. "Just take the damn tree and let's go."

"Hey, you want the right tree, don't you?"

Sara sighed. "I do. But my hands are freezing."

"They are? Wait, let me warm them for you."Greg walked up to her and took her right hand into both of his. "Jeez, Sara, they're cold! What did you do with them, put them into the fridge or something?"

"I just get cold hands easily. Ever since I was a kid."

Greg held her hand into his and started rubbing it between his hands. He looked up to her and for a moment, none of them said anything. They were pretty close to each other. Sara suddenly felt a little embarrassed with him, which had never happened before. There was none she felt more comfortable with than Greg. But now with him standing so close and rubbing her hands, she was a little taken aback by his approach.

"You know what, they're already warmer, thank you." She quickly pulled her hands back and gave him a smile.

He seemed a little confused as well. "Uhh, no problem. Let's uh, let's take the tree, shall we?"

---

A few minutes later, they stood outside of the shop with the enormous Christmas tree. "So, now how are we going to get it back to the house?" Sara asked, pursing her lips amusedly.

"We'll have to carry it."

"You're kidding, right?"

Greg shook his head. "Do you have any other options?"

Sara stared at him for a while, then she burst out laughing. "Alright. If you take it up from below, I'll take the top."

"Alrighty."

Greg bend down and took the downside of the tree, as Sara took the stem from the upside.

"Ready?" she said.

"Yup. On three. One, two, Christmas tree!"

Sara laughed and together they pulled up the tree.

"Ouchh, wait, Greg, you're pushing it into my shoulder!"

"Sorry, wait, let me—"

"No, watch out, it's gonn—"

Sara couldn't hold the tree anymore and it slipped away from her fingers, just as Greg tried to take the stem higher. He lost his balance and fell over, dragging Sara with him. They landed on top of the tree on the ground.

"Oof."

"Ouch."

"Damnit."

"Now my Christmas tree is all ruined," Sara said, pouting. She flipped over on her back, and Greg followed her example. They looked up at the sky far above them. It was slowly getting darker.

"We'll get you a new one."

Sara turned her face to Greg. He looked back at her. Once again, it was there. A tiny little moment. Like a spark that was jumping over between them. She realized that he had felt it too. It scared her, and at the same time it made her happier than ever. There was something between them that she couldn't get hold of.

Strangely enough, this time it didn't involve awkwardness or embarrassment. She could feel that he was feeling the same as she was and that relieved her. They both didn't say anything, until eventually Greg broke the silence.

"You think we should stand up?"

Sara grinned. "Yeah, maybe. Or not."

"Or not," Greg repeated, shrugging. "People will wonder what we're doing here, lying on top of a Christmas tree."

"Yeah, they probably will."

Still, none of them made any intention to stand up and leave. Under normal circumstances, Sara would've gotten up immediately, blushing and hoping none had seen her fall, but right now it was as if the world didn't exist. She didn't care about being seen lying upon a Christmas tree with Greg in the middle of the street.

"You know, we could just lie down here for awhile," she said, softly.

He looked at her surprised. Then he said: "Yeah, we could."

Sara turned her head back up, to watch the sky and around the corner of her eye she saw Greg doing the same. Then he felt him taking her ice cold hand. She was a little shocked at first, but then she squeezed it softly.

So _this_ was Christmas. Sara finally understood the happiness that everyone was talking about when they thought of Christmas. She finally understood why people looked forward to this holiday so much. She finally understood what Christmas really was."Hey Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"You know how I said Christmas sucks?"

"Hmm?"

"I might have changed my mind…"

_A merry, merry Christmas  
__And a happy new year  
__Let's hope it's a good one  
__Without any fear._


End file.
